


Journal ???

by susies_fandom_wonders



Series: Under the Mask [10]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Gen, Torture, also heavily implied thoughts of suicide in the last paragraph?, bronev is also mentioned but he's not important here, hersh also refuses to talk, hersh passes out from Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susies_fandom_wonders/pseuds/susies_fandom_wonders
Summary: Hershel has become useless to Bronev's cause. He gets handed over to Sparrow.





	Journal ???

Hershel’s head snapped to the side, cheek stinging harshly as his hat got knocked askew, nearly falling off his head. His eyes flew open, hand rising to hs face. He could feel the heat rising to his trembling fingers; Hershel’s head pounded, unrelenting, from the rude awakening. His ear sent lances of sharp pain everywhere – was it even ringing anymore?

The professor’s stomach growled at him – multiple trays of God-knows-what sat in the corner by the door, untouched. The stench of urine, excrement, and vomit had all but permeated the room – not that Hershel ever really noticed the smell anymore, too in pain to do much of anything.

The tingle in his cheek hadn’t even begun to fade before Hershel was hauled to his feet by the torn collar of his orange sweater. He felt his throat beginning to close up as the black, beady eyes of Sparrow gazed back at him through the tint of his glasses. The agent’s mouth was turned up into a smug smirk.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead. I think you’ve been resting long enough.” Letting go of Hershel, Sparrow pushed him into the cold concrete wall behind him. The professor hit it with a sharp exhale of breath. Sparrow was already closing the distance between them, and Hershel tried to shrink away before his ear – which Hershel had definitely been debating if it was ringing before – began ringing, nearly bringing the professor to the ground. Hershel’s lips thinned, then pulled back into a pained grimace, as Sparrow pulled his head back up by his hair. His hat fell to the ground with a soft _thump_.

“Boss said I can do whatever I want to you now.” Sparrow’s voice was almost a gleeful whisper as he leaned up to Hershel’s good ear, the scent of cigarettes heavy on the agent’s breath. “Do you know what that means, professor?” Hershel bit his tongue, screwing his eyes shut, as the hand that wasn’t holding his head up grabbed his bad ear and tugged hard. “ _You aren’t useful to him anymore_.” The copper taste of blood flooded Hershel’s mouth when his ear was twisted, sending shockwaves through his body as he convulsed, trying to tear his head out of Sparrow’s grasp. “I get to see what makes you scream. Let’s see – will bruises and broken bones do the trick?” The hand on his ear finally relented. Hershel could have cried, tears burning in his vision. “Why don’t we do a little test to find out?”

Sparrow’s grin was nearly demonic when Hershel finally opened his eyes again – that was about all he got to see before his head got thrown back, smacking against the wall. His tongue throbbed, and his left eye pounded in pain. He crumpled to the ground, and a soft, muffled sound left his throat. Above him, Sparrow _tsk_ ed, and the professor was pulled to his feet again. The agent’s grin was widening.

“Can’t even stay upright after a single punch, huh?” Sparrow shook his head, and let out a quiet chuckle as he rubbed his eyes. “I will say, professor, that I was going easy on you.”

From the way his eye was already beginning to swell shut, Hershel doubted Sparrow was going easy on him. As it was, however, the professor remained silent. Sparrow tilted his head, smile fading some.

“No quip? Professor, you flatter me.” Without any warning, Sparrow landed a heavy blow to Hershel’s abdomen. All the breath left the professor in an instant, and he doubled over, coughing and gagging. “You may want to rethink that decision.” Another blow landed on Hershel’s back as he leaned over, and a harsh, gasping cough left the professor, followed by a pained whimper, as he collapsed to the ground once more.

A disappointed hum, then the professor’s ribs felt like they’d broke when a swift kick to the chest caused Hershel to give a loud, strangled shout, darkness framing the sides of his vision, veiling him. The ringing in his ear grew louder, unbearable, beginning to become the only thing Hershel could think about besides the pain all over his body, his lungs screaming at him to breathe; his body was heavy, feeling like he was underwater, head dizzy and warm from the agony.

It all faded after a moment, and the professor found himself floating in an inky blackness, the ringing in his ears fading to the background after a moment. Hershel’s limbs felt heavy, dragging him down as his vision finally began to fade. For a moment, the professor began to panic, fearing he’d actually gone blind – or died, or _something_. He couldn’t move; his body refused to respond to him.

There was a voice – Hershel couldn’t even remember where he was, couldn’t make out the words through the haze he’d found himself in, the sounds filtering in as if his ears were filled with cotton.

Ice began to crawl its way onto Hershel’s face. Was this what it felt like to die? The professor still couldn’t breathe properly, feeling the pain start to return slowly in agonizing waves as he dragged in breath after breath, body shuddering.

Hershel came to, spluttering and coughing, as another cup full of ice water was thrown on his face. Sparrow was kneeling next to him, frown pulling on his face.

“I expected you to last a lot longer before you passed out, professor. How disappointing.” Sparrow shook his head, giving a long, drawn out sigh. “I thought you’d be stronger.”

Hershel simply stared up at him, focusing on taking in deep breaths, his ribs still feeling like they were on fire – his ear had stopped ringing. His mind was still swimming, cold water running down his face and pooling under his cheek that was resting on the floor. It hurt to even lie motionless on the ground. Sparrow tilted his head, regarding him with mocked concern.

“You seem a bit roughed up, professor – tell you what. I’ll leave you alone to rest –” Sparrow grinned. “– and tomorrow, I’ll come back to play with you some more. Better prepare yourself, professor. It only gets worse from here.” Standing and making his way to the door, Hershel heard the door slam shut behind Sparrow, the sound of his combat boots clicking away down the hallway.

Staring at the crumpled hat in front of him, Hershel found himself thinking of Claire again – and for the first time in years, the professor thought of ending his life once again, to escape the agony of the horrid situation life had thrown at him once again. A hand curled under his torso, grasping at the tiny journal in his tattered jacket. Hershel’s good eye slipped shut.

_Journal ???: He’s started beating me. Everything hurts._


End file.
